


Five on Top

by gritsinmisery



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Abduction, Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-27
Updated: 2010-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-06 18:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gritsinmisery/pseuds/gritsinmisery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five/Ainley!Master with the Doctor topping and the Master begging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five on Top

**Author's Note:**

> The [original version](http://community.livejournal.com/best_enemies/13938.html?thread=204402#t204402) was written for the LJ Comm **best_enemies** anonymous p0rn meme back in May 2008.
> 
> **There is a pair of handcuffs involved, but otherwise everything's very vanilla,** so if you're lookin' for kink you'll be disappointed, and there's really no angst, either.
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely **aralias**, whose recent rec to the comm got me off me arse to clean it up and post it.

Five on Top

"Ah, there you are. I thought you'd come 'round soon." A blurry figure in cream and red, with gold on top, presented itself to the Master. He blinked a few more times, and the shape resolved into the Doctor.

The Doctor was minus his cricket coat and jumper, in just his striped trousers with the braces hanging loose from his waist and rolled-up shirtsleeves. The Master approved but, even in his woozy state, he knew better than to let it show on his face. He made a mental note to lead the Doctor to warmer climes whenever possible then, thanks to whatever had knocked him out, promptly forgot it.

He tried to sit up, only to find his hands bound to something behind his head. The last of the wooziness fading quickly, he took a mental inventory of his current physical situation – prone on some sort of bed and partially undressed – and decided it was completely unsatisfactory. As the Doctor started walking toward his feet, the Master demanded, "Doctor, what am I doing here? Why am I in these handcuffs? Where is my jacket? And what are you doing with my boot?" he finished, as the Doctor grabbed it.

"So many questions." The Doctor just yanked off the boot in question, shook his pretty blond head in amusement, and continued in a mild tone. "Reverse order, I think – taking it off; on that chair; to keep you where I want you; and because I want you here."

"I demand you release me right this min… Excuse me, I was wearing that!" complained the Master with exasperation as his second boot disappeared.

"You aren't any more and you're in no position, as it were," here, his trousers were tugged off, "to demand anything at the moment."

Everything was quite backward of the way it should be and the Master needed to take control of the situation. He went straight for the big guns. "I am the Master; you will obey me."

"Oh, _seriously_. That hasn't worked since well before we matriculated. Do give it a rest."

Folding the trousers neatly, the Doctor turned and laid them over the Master's jacket. He rummaged about in a drawer for a moment then pivoted back to his captive.

"Doctor! Is that… a knife?" Okay, yes, he had been rather… _careless_ of the Doctor's life recently, but nothing his best enemy couldn't get out of if he tried. Except, perhaps, dumping him off of the radio antenna, and the Master wasn't certain the Doctor _had_ tried to escape that one. There was nothing for centuries that had warranted such a, well, _personal_ death.

"There's nothing for it," the Doctor said briskly. "Hold still or you'll regret it." A quick slice up each arm of his shirt, and the Master was left wearing nothing but his pride.

He couldn't keep the astonishment out of his voice. "You only wanted it for my shirt?"

The Doctor's puzzled glance went back and forth between the Master's face and the knife, then his expression brightened. "Ah. No, no harm intended. You started waking up before I finished undressing you, and I had to get you 'cuffed quickly. I'm afraid your shirt just paid the price for my slowness."

"Very well, you now have me at a complete disadvantage. Would you mind explaining to me what this is about?"

The Doctor cocked his head to the side as his eyes raked up the Master's body. He rocked back on his heels and well, yes, smirked. "It appears you don't mind your disadvantage in the slightest. As for an explanation: I'm tired of dodging you, of batting you out of the way every time you pop up and try to interrupt my life. So… you chased me, and now I've caught you, which I'm given to understand is how this sort of thing usually goes."

"You've won this round quite handily. Very well, I concede. I'll even forgive you the shirt. Now, open the 'cuffs and off you go, and we'll start the next round." The Master tugged with his arms and did his best to sound bored with the entire situation.

The Doctor shook his head then pushed his fringe back up when it flopped into his eyes. "Ah, no, it's not that easy. You've been laying your sordid little plots quite literally at my doorstep, like a housecat would its kills. Ignoring you hasn't discouraged you, so I've decided you should be acknowledged before you do something desperate to get my attention. To _pet_ you, if you will."

The Master's eyebrows made a rapid ascent toward his hairline. His pride immediately announced that _he_ should be the one doing any petting. His imagination ran a montage of all the ways he would like to be petted, but his intellect stepped in to quickly assert that the Doctor's current regeneration was all Ice Prince; he gave off _nolo mi tangere_ vibes that even psychically-challenged humans felt. It had to be some sort of odd Doctor-esque metaphor. "Pet me?"

"Hmm, see, isn't that easier than killing someone?" the Doctor murmured, distracted, while he studied the Master's body. Then he realized it wasn't a request. "Oh, you were looking for an explanation. It's quite simple, really: imagine if our current positions were reversed." He laid one finger on the Master's ankle and ran it slowly up the outside of his leg to his hip, where nearby the Master's cock was quite happy to report that he had no problem at all imagining such a thing. "Ah, I see you understand. I will admit that I won't leave you quite as damaged as you might me…" The Doctor's eyes became cold and hard in contemplation, and the rest of his hand, flattened, joined his finger on the Master's hip as he sat down on the bed. He ran his palm slowly up over the Master's stomach and chest until it rested on his neck under his beard.

Panic flared in the Master's eyes and he threw his head back and forth to try to rid himself of the Doctor's hand. The Doctor slid his fingers up over the Master's jaw to stop his thrashing, and turned the Master's face toward him with a thumb on his chin.

"Hmm. No respiratory bypass makes that a rather frightening sensation, doesn't it? But that's your game, not mine. I said you _wouldn't_ be damaged." The Doctor leaned down until their faces were barely apart; until the Master could feel every word as it was breathed onto his lips. "Not physically, anyway. Your pride, well…

"For one night, you will ask for what you want -- exactly and precisely what you want -- no hedging, no banter. You will ask, not tell, and you will ask politely. If you demand, if you bluster, you will be left just like this with nothing but your frustration and your imagination. But if you can quit playing games long enough; if you decide that having my complete attention is worth giving up your beloved control for a short while… You're quite apt to get anything you ask for."

The Master could think of so many things he wanted, but not like this. The idea of having that beautiful body at his command was nearly enough to make him quiver, but he rebelled at the thought of having to ask, to _beg_, for his most private desires, and then risk the possibility of being turned down and ridiculed. He was the Master; he demanded, he took, he did not _ask_.

He jerked his head upward, trying to press his lips to those hovering so close. The Doctor was expecting such a trick and pulled back the second he felt the other's muscles tense to move. Rather than scold the Master, the Doctor just loosened his grip on his jaw and began to run his fingertips down the Master's body – neck, chest, stomach, across one hip and down the inside of his thigh. Then switching legs he reversed their path up the other side, carefully ignoring the Master's cock, which was doing its best to insist that it needed his attention.

The Master growled low in his throat, angry at both missing the kiss and the teasing that came as a result. The growl might have ended on a bit of a needy note.

Looking up from his wandering fingers, the Doctor gazed placidly at the Master's face. "Was there something you wanted?" he asked mildly.

The Master glared at him in frustration and nearly snarled, "Kiss me."

"_Ask_," the Doctor reproved, lifting his hand away from the Master's body.

This was worse; now he missed the touch, too. "Kiss me… please."

The Doctor sighed, "It's a start." He laid his mouth on top of the Master's, who pressed up greedily and licked at the Doctor's lips.

The Doctor pulled back just out of reach of the Master's mouth and stayed there, watching as anger and frustration seemed to war across the Master's face. "Please. Again," the Master muttered grudgingly. "Deeper… and harder. And touch me, please."

"Certainly." The Doctor smiled, and then bent down to the Master. As their teeth clicked together and their tongues fought their way in and out of each other's mouths, the Doctor slid his hand through the Master's hair and down to the back of his head, holding him close so he wouldn't need to hold himself up.

When he realized the Doctor wasn't pulling away this time, the Master relaxed back into his hand and let his mouth be plundered. It was rather enjoyable not having to chase all the time, if a little unnerving to give up any amount of control. The Doctor slowly lowered the Master's head back to the bed, never breaking the kiss, and slid his hand down the Master's nape, over his shoulder, and down his chest until it rested over the Master's rapidly beating heart.

The Doctor finally lifted his mouth away. Both men were breathing heavily. The Master shook his arms. "Let me out of these," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "Let me touch you. _Please_."

Sitting back, the Doctor closed his eyes and a pained look crossed his face. He'd made himself a promise before he started this, one he knew he had to keep to make this situation work.

Opening his eyes again to look down at the Master he said, "Taking those off you will be the last thing I do before I leave. I will do so the next time you ask me, but then I'll have to go." He let the threat hang between them for a minute, then asked, "Do you want me to remove the 'cuffs?"

The Master gazed up at him warily. It would be so easy to snidely inform the Doctor that he'd never wanted any of this and should be set free immediately. He might even manage to grab the Doctor before he could make good his escape. His pride pretty much demanded that he try it. After all, he _was_ the Master.

Pride be damned. He hadn't been this close to having the Doctor since the Doctor was recuperating from his last regeneration and, quite frankly, too ill to be any fun. The Master could think of plenty of other things to ask for, things that didn't involve the use of his hands and that he probably wouldn't get any other time. "No," he ground out reluctantly, then added, "I'll make you pay for this indignity."

"You'll try," replied the Doctor, smiling fondly, and leaned down to kiss him again without being asked.

"Hands, Doctor," gasped out the Master the first chance he got. At the first intimation that the Doctor was pulling back, he added a reluctant, "Please."

"Where?" the Doctor whispered into his mouth. His hands hovered just above the Master's shoulders, close enough that the Master could feel their warmth.

The Master closed his eyes, hoping to hide the need that was starting to overwhelm everything else, including his anger at being helpless. "Anywhere. Everywhere. Just don't tease. Please."

"Kissing, too?" The Doctor smiled, his lips close enough to the Master's that he could feel their movement.

"Mouth," the Master agreed with a whisper. "Hands." His eyes opened then; his gaze burned into the Doctor's. "And skin. Please take off your clothes."

"Very well. Since you _asked_," replied the Doctor, knowing full well that the first unforced 'please' was a major step, even if it was attached to an order. He lowered his hands to the Master's shoulders and, flexing his fingers, raked his nails down the Master's chest. The Master's eyes widened and then closed when the nails scraped his nipples. The Doctor nuzzled the side of the Master's neck. When he turned his head and raised it obligingly to offer access, the Doctor sank his teeth into the tendon running down the side. The Master's hips bucked up off the bed, only to be pressed back down by the Doctor's hands.

While alternating teeth and tongue on the Master's neck, the Doctor removed his own shirt. When the Doctor stood to take off his trousers, a tiny whine escaped the Master's throat.

"Shh, can't be helped. Just a second," soothed the Doctor.

Frowning in discontent, the Master watched the Doctor avidly, anxious to see what his humiliation was buying. His captor unveiled a slender but not skinny body, with a smattering of freckles across the top of his chest and shoulders.

"You've been sunbathing again; this regeneration won't tolerate much of that," the Master observed mildly, surprising himself with the remark. Where was his pride, his anger?

"I burn terribly quickly this time, but you know I never could resist the warmth on my skin," replied the Doctor, bending down to pop off his trainers with a finger. He stepped out of the trousers pooled around his ankles.

Closing his eyes, the Master was back on Gallifrey, leaning against the silver trunk of a giant shade tree, watching his shirtless best friend fall backward into tall red grass, arms outspread, laughing at the feel of twin suns on bare skin. Something in the memory – the Master refused to examine too closely _what_ – further eased his anger at his loss of control in this encounter.

"Hedonist," he chided fondly. When he opened his eyes again they flared at the sight of the Doctor, naked, crawling up the bed toward him.

The Doctor placed his hands on the bed on either side of the Master's head for support. His hair fell down around his face, nose nearly touching the Master's, the shiny strands enclosing the two of them like a gold silk bed curtain. "Pot, meet kettle. I'm not the one dressing in velvet."

"Let's talk two regenerations ago, hmm? Oh, and 'pleased to meet you.'" The Master's eyes grew even darker, and some of the steel came back into his voice. "Now, I believe I made several requests, which you agreed to. The foremost was your body against mine." He tried to work a foot over one of the Doctor's thighs to pull him down.

The Doctor merely shifted away. "That sounds like a demand."

"It's a simple statement of fact." The Master was nearly growling with frustration. "Very well, I'll repeat myself. Please let me feel your body on mine. And your mouth. And your hands."

The Doctor pressed his mouth to the Master's, who opened his lips eagerly in return. Sliding a leg between the Master's, he lowered himself until their bodies were together. The Master bucked his hips, shifting slightly until their cocks were aligned, then moaned into the kiss. The Doctor started a slow frot, sliding up and down the Master until both of them were trembling.

When the Doctor pulled away, the Master let out a gasp at the loss of contact. "No! _Please!_"

"You asked for hands and mouth. You shall have them."

If the Master's eyes had been open, he'd have witnessed the Devil's own smile on that choirboy face. Instead he got the sensation of a warm mouth sucking at his throat for a moment, then the Doctor's heavy cock leaving a wet trail down the inside of his thigh as its owner backed down his body. A wet tongue rasped at one nipple, then the other, as the Doctor's fingers wrapped around the head of his cock and slid slowly toward the base. When the tongue on his nipple was followed by a quick nip of teeth that sent a shock straight to his groin, the Master's eyes flew open and he pushed up into the Doctor's hand.

The gaze that met his was as heavy-lidded and as dark as those blue eyes could ever get, making silent promises as the Doctor moved further down his body. The smile on the mouth that paused directly above his cock was so wicked… _There_ was the Doctor that the Master knew was possible, the one he had been searching for all these centuries. The one worth any price.

When the Doctor lowered his head just a fraction so that his breath was ghosting across the tip of Master's cock and raised his eyebrows in inquiry, the Master matched him smile for wicked smile. "Oh yes. Please."

The Doctor ran his tongue up and down the length of the Master's cock, learning the ridges and dips, circling the head, exploring the crevices. The Master could only watch for a moment before he had to lay his head back, close his eyes, and just _feel_. When the Doctor finally took him in, slid his mouth down around the Master's shaft, the Master couldn't help groaning and bucking upwards. Holding his hips down, the Doctor hummed around him in amusement. Then he started bobbing his head, sliding the cock in and out of his throat, lifting the pressure off the Master's hips a bit, encouraging a matching rhythm. The Master, as always, was a quick study.

Soon the Doctor could feel the muscles under his hands tense up and hear the Master's breath grow short. He slowly lifted away, maintaining suction until the very tip. The Master was breathing too hard to protest the loss.

The Doctor coated his fingers with lube and repeated the earlier explorations of his tongue. Then while one hand made long, steady, twisting pulls on the Master's cock, the other slipped further under him each time he raised his hips, circling his balls, pressing along underneath. One finger tried to find its way inside and the Master tensed up with a hiss.

"No?" asked the Doctor, pulling the finger away, still stroking with the other hand to relax the tension. The Master shook his head sharply, something hard and indefinable behind his eyes.

"If that's just your pride insisting you're always top, might I remind you that you are bound? I could insist," the Doctor said firmly. The hardness in the Master's eyes changed into something a bit more like desperation. "You could see that as a reason to relax and let yourself experience it…" the Doctor then cajoled softly, his fingers shifting to a slow, teasing movement along the Master's shaft.

"You said whatever I asked for, Doctor. Well, I'm asking you," here the Master had to stop to gasp and push as the fingers still encircling him hit a deliciously sensitive spot, "not to. Please."

The Doctor sighed and smiled down at him. "Very well, then. What do you want?"

"Ride me." Aware that the answer was more of a growl than a request, the Master tried to steady his voice as he elaborated, "Let me feel you around me. Let me watch while you come with me inside you."

Despite the innate sense of time gifted to every Time Lord at birth, the fraction of a second while the Doctor gave absolutely no response to his request seemed to the Master to stretch out into an eternity. His fears of rejection and ridicule came crashing back down on him, and he braced himself for the blow.

Instead, the Doctor's mouth slowly curved up into a rather knowing smile. "Certainly," he replied. The Master found himself relaxing muscles he had no memory of tensing.

The Doctor straddled the Master, working a slick finger inside his own body. Soon it was joined by a second, and after a while a third, the Doctor sucking in his breath a bit at the burn. "Sorry. New body," he explained, eyes closing and head falling back as he concentrated on his task.

The Master's irises were mere blue outlines around his pupils as he watched. His mind skipped back across his memories of the last few centuries, and he could find none as incredibly erotic as what he was seeing now. "I can wait. I seem to find it's worth it," he assured the Doctor.

"Is it?" The Doctor stared down intensely at the Master as he lowered his body, the ring of muscle just barely past the head of the Master's cock before he stopped. The Master clenched every muscle group in his body, fighting the urge to thrust up into this untouched, golden -- and surprisingly resourceful -- version of his lover-enemy-friend.

"Is it worth being knocked out? Bound? Stripped? Worth having to ask? Instead of just take?" With every question, the Doctor rocked the Master a little deeper into his body.

"Y-yesssssss." The Master's reply started out reluctantly and ended with a hiss as the Doctor lifted up and then dropped slowly down his entire length.

"Good."

In contrast to his curt acknowledgment of victory, the Doctor set up a languid, sliding rhythm, and after a few strokes the Master risked rising up to meet him. A smile of invitation from the Doctor was followed by a gasp and a wonderful clench as the difference in angle had the Master sliding over his prostate. The Master thought he might _just_ have seen the Doctor's eyes roll back right before he closed them. For the first time since he regained consciousness, the Master felt like using his normal predatory smile.

Soon their pace quickened. The Doctor's mouth was open, panting, and his whole body was trembling. The Master, also close thanks to having learned how to hit the right spot in his lover repeatedly and reap the reward, gasped out, "Doctor! Doctor? _Theta!_"

The Doctor's eyes opened, but they were nearly black, unfocused.

"I can't finish it, bound like this. Touch yourself for me, Theta. Let me watch." The Master's voice held an urgent plea, not a demand, but the Doctor wouldn't have argued anyway.

Finally focusing, the Doctor smiled down at his lover and started stroking his cock in time with their rhythm. Soon his eyes fell closed again and after a few more strokes he started shuddering and came with a soft moan.

The Master worked to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a second of something he'd waited so long to see. But now, watching the Doctor -- head thrown back, shaking, coming, impaled on his cock, clenching around it -- was too much. He thrust upward and spilled into the Doctor with a cry.

They kept setting each other off: an unexpected squeeze would have the Master pushing up again; the slightest jerk had the Doctor clenching involuntarily. Finally, the Doctor lowered his forehead to the Master's, too exhausted to hold himself upright any more. They stayed there, panting and trembling together.

The Master never felt the Doctor pull away; he woke to the feel of a towel cleaning the mess off his body. "Mmmph," he stated as his eyes fell closed again involuntarily.

"I quite agree," replied the Doctor. The Master forced his eyes back open and smiled.

The Doctor laid his mouth against his sleepy captive's ear. "Any last requests?" he whispered.

Turning his face into the Doctor's neck, the Master kissed it and mumbled, "I wish I could touch you… Will you," he yawned, "sleep with me a while, Thete?"

The Doctor kissed him back on the forehead. "Are you a cuddler this time?"

The Master, nearly dozing, nodded his head ever so slightly and hummed an affirmative.

"Very well, for a little while." The Doctor slid down until he could lay his head on the Master's chest. "Anything else?"

"Nnh-mmm," came back, perhaps a little wistfully, as the Master shifted slightly to accommodate the Doctor's head. Just when the Doctor thought the Master was completely asleep, just when he was almost there himself, he heard the softest sigh: _"Keep me."_

The Doctor lay very still, pretending he was already asleep. He could recognize the words as something he was never meant to hear.


End file.
